


A Week off for Washington

by Philpott397



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, various other characters from chorus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philpott397/pseuds/Philpott397
Summary: “Um, Kimball and Doyle gave me a few days off, I thought I could spend them with you.”  Wash said shuffling in place as Tucker eyed him with a blank expression before smiling broadly.“Oh my god, they gave you a day off and you don’t know what to do with yourself, do you?”  Tucker asked.





	1. Say what now?

“We’ve decided to give you a few days off Washington, well five to be exact.” Doyle said looking between Kimball and the freelancer in front of him as they say at a small table in the briefing room.

“A day off.” Wash said slowly as though not comprehending the trio of words together.

“Yes, Miss Kimball and I feel as though you deserve a break after training the cadets for the last few months. I do believe you’ve certainly earned it, is there a problem?” Doyle asked giving the freelancer a confused look.

“You’re giving me the week off from training the cadets.” Wash stated slowly looking between the two generals for clarification.

“We’re giving you a break, slash order, from working at all Wash. Training, planning, and basically getting anywhere close to the training room.” Kimball explained leaning forward in her chair to rest her arms on the worn metal table.

“What can I do then?” Wash asked knitting his brow in confusion as the generals let out a simultaneous sigh. 

“Whatever you do on a day off Wash. Sleep, read, or whatever you freelancers do for fun.” Kimball said shooting Wash an exasperated look. 

“So working out, the shooting range, and sparing.” Wash said somewhat more confidently only to earn looks of disbelief from both generals.

“No, you don’t train on a day off Wash. Why don’t you go ask Captain Tucker? I’m sure he could point you point you in the direction of a proper day off.” Doyle said as he pushed himself out of his chair and gestured toward the door.

Wash got up from his chair and rendered a crisp salute before turning on his heel and walking out into the hallway, the door closing heavily behind him. He let out a sigh before sticking his helmet back over his head. He really couldn’t remember the last time he had had a day off, let alone this many or what he used to do on one before the strict routines of the project. Usually every free moment had been spent in a training session, or passed out in response to the exhaustion from said training session or mission. 

He slowly made his way down the winding halls of the headquarters building, thinking of what to do. He could go see Tucker, after all he only had drill in the mornings, and a few training sessions he taught scattered throughout the rest of the week. Stepping out onto the street, he started off in the direction of the reds and blues rooms that resided in a reinforced hotel just a few blocks south of the main training fields and armory. The streets were quiet for a Monday morning, with most of the army being in drill or out on morning patrols. The occasional warthog rolled down the street, the driver and Wash exchanging a salute. 

As he entered the wing of building that held the blues rooms he came to a stop in front of Tuckers heavy wooden door, his last name printed on the outside in crude black marker. Wash knocked twice on the door listening for the inevitable string of cursing and acknowledgement that he was on his way to the door. Wash had gotten familiar with the routine, usually he was in bed next to Tucker when someone else knocked on the door. Wash smiled to himself at the mental image, before refocusing on the door being held open in front of him.

Tucker was in a pair of black sweatpants, only, his expression turning from aggressive to welcoming within a split second at the recognition of Wash. His expression then turned to one of confusion as he mentally considered the time and day. 

“I thought you had training all day, is it not Monday?” Tucker asked, his tired voice laced with confusion.

“Um, Kimball and Doyle gave me a few days off, I thought I could spend them with you.” Wash said shuffling in place as Tucker eyed him with a blank expression before smiling broadly.

“Oh my god, they gave you a day off and you don’t know what to do with yourself, do you?” Tucker asked, face lighting up as he watched Wash fidget. 

Tucker laughed lightly as he pulled Wash into his room before shutting the door behind them. 

“Now first things first, out of the armor. You’re not spending your relaxing day off with your boyfriend in two tons of steel.” Tucker said pulling Wash’s helmet off and tossing it into his pile of clean clothes.

“Fine.” Wash huffed releasing the clasps on his gauntlets as Tucker worked twice as hard to undress him.

Within a few minutes Wash had succeeded in getting his gauntlets off, and Tucker had done the rest. Tucker hopped onto his bed and let out a low whistle as Wash started to change from his undersuit into the pair of his sweats and shirt that Tucker had thrown at him. Wash blushed as he pulled on the clothes as quickly as he could before he joined Tucker in bed. The sim trooper threw the blankets over himself and Wash before wrapping himself around Wash’s side, head tucked against the freelancers clothed chest. 

“Wash, did you really not know what to do on a day off?” Tucker asked softly after a moment as threaded his fingers through Wash’s.

“Yeah, or well no, apparently it isn’t acceptable to spend a day off training, or planning. I just can’t remember doing anything else in my down time.” Wash explained wrapping his arm loosely around Tucker’s back.

“Kimball and Doyle were right; you don’t work on a day off. You sleep, watch mind mumbling TV, or just snuggle like this for the whole day. Rule two of Tucker’s guide to the perfect day off, you’re not allowed to be productive.” Tucker said feeling Wash’s chest tremble as the freelancer chuckled below him.

“Tucker’s guide to a perfect day off, with rules.” Wash mumbled before yawning deeply.

“Yep and rule three is start with a nap.” Tucker said closing his eyes and dragging the blanket up to cover them both.

“And you have rules for the rest of the week I have off as well I take it?” Wash asked letting his eyelids become heavy in the warm embrace of Tucker.

“You betcha.” Tucker mumbled.


	2. Day One

Wash awoke to the sound of snoring, specifically snoring that resonated on his chest. Looking down lazily he made smiled at the image of Tucker’s head nestled against his chest, arm loosely gripping the freelancers side. His gaze drifted from Tucker to the alarm clock whose bid red numbers placed the time past one in the afternoon. His mind immediately kicked into the reactionary panic that he was late for something. It wasn’t until he sitting on the edge of the bed that his mind kicked into gear and reminded him of his conversation with Kimball and Doyle. 

Tucker groaned behind him as his sleep laden mind tried to come up with a reason for his missing pillow and heat source. When it couldn’t find an answer Tucker crack open his eyes to glare at the freelancer’s back. 

“Wash lay back down.” Tucker whined pawing lazily at the freelancer’s waist.

“Tucker it’s past one, I need to do something.” Wash replied turning his body so that his legs were back on the bed, but was still sitting up.

“No, rule two.” Tucker mumbled rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“You’re not allowed to be productive, yeah I remember.” Wash huffed leaning back against the wall behind the bed.

“Exactly so I want you to give me a list of things you think wouldn’t be productive to do for today.” Tucker said moving over to snuggle up to Wash’s side. 

“Isn’t making a list of unproductive things, still being productive?” Wash asked smirking as Tucker smacked him on the thigh.

“Ok Agent Sassington, how about you lazily pronounce some things that are unproductive in your mind.” Tucker fired back poking the freelancer in the side.

“Having time off.” Wash deadpanned as Tucker smacked him again.

“Why am I dating you, it’s so much trouble.” Tucker sighed dramatically.

“Because I’m the only one that fell for your pick up lines, we love each other, or my big…” Wash started to list off as Tucker jumped up and grabbed his hands. “…collection of blankets you steal from.” Wash finished. 

“You know what, let’s just go eat. We can plan from there.” Tucker said jumping out of bed to find some clothes.

“Isn’t planning considered productive?” Wash asked as Tucker threw a hoodie at his face.

-

The walk from Tucker’s room to the mess was a silent one as Wash wholly focused on the fact that he was out in the open in nothing but his sweats. Tucker strode beside him totally content, until he noticed Wash’s discomfort. Without saying a word Tucker wrapped his arm around Wash’s waist and pulled the freelancer against him. 

“Relax dude, the mess hall is right here.” Tucker said as they approached the double doors of the building.

Wash immediately relaxed the moment he had a roof over his head. Tucker smiled to himself as he led the freelancer toward the short line to get food. After which they found their usual table with Simmons, Grif, and Sarge. Simmons looked up and smiled at the pair before turning back to his datapad, immersed in cataloging their latest shipment of weapons. Wash looked at the datapad with a sense of longing. And Tucker would deny that he felt just a little jealous that Wash gave a datapad that look over him.

“Put it away Simmons, Wash is getting jealous.” Tucker stated as Wash snapped to glare at him.

“Why would Wash be jealous of me working?” Simmons questioned as he tucked the datapad away.

“Because Kimball and Doyle gave him the week off this morning, and he gave that datapad a look that Grif would give a candy bar.” Tucker said chuckling under his breath as Wash continued to glare at him.

“I know your pain Wash.” Grif said patting Wash on the shoulder before turning back to his food.

Wash turned from Tucker to his food, largely ignoring the rest of Tucker’s banter with the reds. Maybe he could slip away from Tucker and go hide in his office with the blinds drawn and do some work. He glanced to his side to see Tucker still immersed in the conversation he was having with Simmons about a new rifle. Wash excused himself to go the bathroom, smirking when Tucker waived him off. Truthfully he should not be doing this, the generals did order him not to work this week, but Wash needed the relief that work brought.

Turns out Wash really should have listened to that part of his reasonable mind. He reached the door to his office without notice, he felt a thrill as he inched open his door and closed it. The room was dark and so Wash reached for the light switch. He will forever deny the yelp that came from him when he caught sight of Carolina sitting in his chair, smirking like an old movie villain. 

“Need something Wash?” Carolina asked trying to contain the smirk on her face at his shocked expression.

“I..I..I was just going to grab my jacket, thought I left it in here.” Wash stumbled out as he tried to slow his heart rate.

“Well I haven’t seen it, nor should I see it considering Kimball and Doyle gave you the week off this morning before you should have set foot in your office.” Carolina said standing up from his chair to walking around his desk.

“It’s not fair, I want to work.” Wash whined as Carolina laughed to herself.

“Wash, it’s for your own good. Now just know I have informants, and if they see you sneak here, or to the training room again. I’ll make sure they give you more time off.” Carolina said pushing him out into the hallway.

“You wouldn’t.” Wash whined trying to grab her arm.

“Oh. You know I would, go relax Wash.” Carolina said shoving him out the door.

-

“Stop pouting, you’re ruining the movie.” Tucker groaned as Wash continued to glare in the direction of the TV.

Tucker had found him sulking in the mess hall shortly after his interaction with Carolina, and then had proceeded to drag him into Tucker’s room to watch a series of movies. Tucker groaned and placed the bowl of popcorn in Wash’s lap.

“Rule three, you’re not allowed pout when people are trying to help you have a nice day off.” Tucker stated grabbing a piece of popcorn to pop into his mouth.

“Fine, sorry, it’s just hard to not to be productive when it’s all I’ve done for years.” Wash mumbled while relaxing his posture to get closer to Tucker.

“I know, but you can’t be an ass if someone is trying to help you sort it out.” Tucker said pulling the blanket further up the pair.

“Ok, thank you, I can only assume it isn’t easy.” Wash yawned leaning his head to rest on Tucker’s chest.

“It’s not, but I think it’s gonna be worth it.” Tucker mumbled running a hand through Wash’s hair as the freelancer dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed Day One. I love all of the comments and kudos from the first chapter. Thanks


	3. Day Two

Wash awoke to the diminishing heat of Tucker’s bed. He cracked open his eyes to see Tucker pulling on his undersuit, smiling sheepishly once he realized Wash was conscious. Wash just smiled and pulled the covers further up his shoulders before snuggling back into Tucker’s pillows. He was just on the edge of sleep when Tucker’s weight settled on the edge of the bed. Cracking open his eyes Wash was met with Tucker leaning down.

“Have a nice day.” Tucker whispered as he pressed a kiss to Wash’s temple before slipping off to his duties for the day.

This was nice, Wash mused as he relished Tucker’s soft sheets, the subtle sunlight peeking through the curtains, and the light hum of the noise of the base just outside. He did feel a twinge of guilt for the soldiers that had to get up while he savored his sluggish existence in his boyfriend’s bed. Truthfully a small part of him wanted to try its luck with Carolina and her informants. But, a larger part pulled him toward Tucker’s advice and their talk last night. And that part might be right this time.

He spent most of the morning in the mess hall eating his late brunch by himself at the reds and blues regular table. Dully immersed in the first taste of good eggs and bacon from the army’s latest supply run, Wash failed to notice the approaching reds until Sarge plopped down unceremoniously in his armor jarring Wash from his thoughts.

“Morning blue, a little late ain’t ya?” Sarge grumbled as he took off his helmet and placed it next to his tray.

“Kimball and Doyle gave me the week off.” Wash mumbled as he turned back to his food.

“So you’re free to go on the weekly red team expedition then. Finally, I can convince you to come over to the proper side.” Sarge said pointing his fork at Wash.

“What are you talking about Sarge?” Wash asked giving the colonel a confused look.

“The expedition, red team does one every Tuesday to team build. And you’re coming because you have nothing better to do. We meet on the parade ground at 1300, don’t be late.” Sarge said grabbing his helmet and marching away.

Wash stared after the red team leader, forehead creased in confusion as he held a forkful of eggs just above his plate. He sighed and let his fork fall back onto the tray with a light clank. Well, he really didn’t have anything better to do, besides how bad could it really be compared to what he had seen from the reds already.

-

At 1250, Wash stood on the parade grounds in his sweat shirt and cargo pants as he waited for the reds to show up. And when they did, it was a relief that Wash didn’t keel over. Sarge was dressed in a red t-shirt with tan cargo shorts drawn up above his kneecaps, toting an old camping pack. Grif, Simmons, and Donut shuffled behind their leader in much of the same attire, with the exception of each respectful shirt color. 

Wash stared in disbelief as Sarge let a smirk flash across his features and told him to fall in line. Walking behind Donut, he was powerless to ask Sarge their destination as they took a path that led them into the jungle just outside the base. Each time he tried to raise his voice in question, Sarge just grunted and told him to be patient. They must have walked five miles before Sarge ushered the group through a small rock arch. 

Wash’s jaw dropped as he emerged from the vine covered rock face. The scene was mesmerizing, he stood on a small cliff that overlooked a small oasis below him. A waterfall thundered to his left, coating the rock face in a layer of fine moisture. And just below it ran a gently flowing stream through a grassy clearing. The trees seemed to tower over Wash, but the regular foliage that choked the jungle ground he had seen in the other jungles of the planet didn’t exist here. Instead the ground by the stream was full of grass and graveled beaches. 

Sarge pushed him down the small slope and down to a well-worn spot by the stream that the groups dropped their pack on. As Wash stood their taking in the clear water of the stream and the cooling freshness of the humid air, Sarge shoved an object into his grasp. Snapping his gaze from the stream Wash looked in awe at the old scratched fishing pole that was in his hand. And looking around he saw that each of the reds also had their own.

“So what do ya think Wash?” Sarge asked him as he started to dig around his pack for bait.

“It’s amazing, but I, well I…” Wash stuttered, looking between the fishing pole to Sarge.

“You what?” Sarge asked throwing a container of bait to Donut who bounded over to the other two members of red team.

“I don’t know how to.” Wash muttered looking at the fishing pole.

“You don’t know how to fish.” Sarge stated freezing in his effort to put together his own fishing pole.

“Yeah, I can just watch it not a big deal.” Wash stammered quickly as Sarge huffed.

“Well then I’ll just have to show you then.” Sarge said grabbing the pole out of Wash’s hands and pushing the freelancer toward the stream.

It took Wash a while to get the hang of fishing, but Sarge was a patient teacher. Helping each time the freelancer got the line stuck or struggled to get the hook more than two feet into the stream. But after a few hours of coaching Sarge left Wash to sit on a rock and watch his bobber sway in the gentle stream.

“So how come you never learned to fish Wash?” Sarge asked sitting down on the uneven gravel and casting his line into the water.

“I grew up on a mining colony, didn’t really have the setting to go fishing, or someone to teach me.” Wash said as his eyes lost focus on his bobber and turned to the peaceful jungle around him.

“Huh, well it’s a skill that should be learned. Teaches a man patience, to enjoy the little moments.” Sarge said reaching up to pat Wash’s arm.

Wash smiled and nodded as the Sarge got to his feet stared out at the water with a small grin showing.

“Your bobbers down son.” Sarge said as Wash snapped back to his line.

Wash tensed as he saw his bobber being held under the rivers gentle currents. Like Sarge showed him he started to reel his line in, pulling sharply every now and then. He smiled to himself as he felt the subtle tug on his line. Reeling in more he could just make out a grey shape shining just feet from the streams edge. Sarge bent down grabbed the end of Wash’s line to pull the fish onto shore. Taking the hook from its mouth Sarge held up the fish for Wash to hold. 

“Looks like were eating good tonight, let’s go get the others. And good job Wash.” Sarge said beaming with the smile of a proud father as he watched the freelancer hold the sizable fish.

-

The rest of the expedition passed with the red team and Wash sitting around a small fire Grif had built, watching him cook the small collection of fish they had caught. As they sat around eating Sarge regaled them with tail from red team’s early history, as the other three members offered muttered corrections every now and then. 

Wash sat in between Grif and Sarge listening to the stories while also soaking in the tranquil nature of the day. A day spent fishing and talking around a campfire in the middle of the war was not what Wash could have imagined himself doing last week. But he couldn’t find a reason to complain, even with Sarge constantly baiting him to join red team.

“You do know yellow is closer too red than blue right?” Sarge asked snapping Wash out of his thoughts.

“Sarge, you do realize I’m bound to blue team in more ways than one now.” Wash said laughing as Sarge huffed and crossed his arms.

“But, I did have a great time today Sarge, so thank you for that.” Wash finished as Sarge lets his posture and a smile slip.

“Fine, I guess a happy blue is better than a sulking one.” Sarge muttered as he held up a forkful of fish and laughed.

They stayed in red team’s fishing oasis for a few more hours before heading back to the base around sunset. Wash let himself hang back in the group and watch the sunset disappear over the jungle canopy in a stunning display of red and yellow. Sarge silently patted him on the shoulder as they got into the gates of the base and then left him to venture back to Tucker’s room.

He found the sim trooper propped up in his bed reading something on his bed as Wash walked in. Wash smiled as he turned away and started to change into his nightwear that was still on Tucker’s floor from this morning. He flinched slightly as Tuckers hands wrapped around his shirtless waist and his chin buried itself in Wash’s shoulder.

“How was your day.” Tucker mumbled into Wash’s shoulder as he hands roamed over the freelancer’s hips.

“It was great; I went fishing with the reds.” Wash stuttered as Tucker’s hands moved over his belt.

“Sounds like a nice day off, but I can think of something better to catch.” Tucker said as Wash let himself be pushed over and onto the bed.

“I don’t know that fish was pretty good.” Wash teased, smirking as Tucker settled beside him.

“Trust me, this’ll be better.” Tucker said leaning in to connect their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed day two. I'm grateful for all the kudos and comments on this story. Thanks


	4. Day Three

Wash climbed back to consciousness slowly that next morning. Content from the previous day and night, he laid in bed dimly listening to the pitter patter of rain on Tucker’s window. He thought that he might have been content to stay in bed all day if it wasn’t for the knock that startled him. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed Wash began the process of collecting and adorning his clothes that had been thrown haphazardly around the room the night before. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair and opened the door to reveal Palomo with his hand still raised to knock against the door again. At the sight of Wash, he hastily dropped the hand and stood stiff.

“Yes Palomo.” Wash said leaning against the door frame.

“Oh, hi Wash, you wouldn’t happen to know where Captain Tucker is, by chance.” Palomo said voice rising as he started to comprehend that the rumors around base were actually true.

“I think he’s training hand to hand all day, why do you ask?” Wash asked straightening his posture.

“Just needed his help on a project, but its ok, nothing we can’t handle, bye Wash.” Palomo rambled out as he took off down the hallway.

Wash stared at the lieutenant in confusion as he slipped on a pair of shoes and followed him down the hallway. He got lost a few times, but picked up the trail at the sound of Palomo’s high pitched talking to other cadets. Something about a meeting, at least that’s the excuse he gave to them as he passed. Wash himself got distracted by the lingering looks some of the cadets gave, lingering looks of confusion. Then it hit him, the cadets had never seen him out of armor. The most he had ever shown was his face during the week that the fan in his helmet had busted. 

Shaking himself out of thought just in time he watched Palomo disappear into a conference room that was rarely used, he followed. Cracking open the door softly he was met with the sight of the three other lieutenants sitting at the front row of tables in the room, whilst Palomo unrolled a large sheet of paper and set to hanging it on the wall behind him. Wash watched the words on the poster come into view as Palomo turned to the trio.

“Ok people I need updates on Operation Game Time.” Palomo announced laying both his hand on the table in front of him.

“Objective Oreos is complete.” Andersmith proclaimed proudly as he nudged a small duffel bag with his foot.

“Cargo of Soda loaded and ready.” Jensen said tugging on the straps of her backpack that sat on the floor.

“Target location is set up.” Bitter mumbled lazily.

“Great, phase two commences in 5...4...3...2” Palomo started to count down.

Wash had been watching in confusion and curiosity at the lieutenants ‘operation’ when his body decided to betray his location. He hadn’t been known for being a quiet sneezer. Hell it had more than more given away his location in the project, and it sure as hell didn’t fail now. The volume of it startled Palomo out of his counting to look at the hunched form of Washington wiping his nose in the doorway.

“Get him!” Palomo shouted as Andersmith and Bitters grabbed Wash by the arms and closed the door behind them.

“How much did you hear?” Palomo asked as Wash was pushed into one of the old office chairs.

“Um, all of it. Operation Game Time.” Wash hesitantly said as the other three lieutenants fidgeted in place behind him.

“Dammit, Bitters it was your job to watch the door.” Palomo hissed as Bitters shrugged.

“I’m not here to rat you guys out, I was just curious.” Wash said holding up his hands.

“Wait you’re not?” Palomo asked as Wash shook his head.

“He could join the operation Palomo.” Jensen said excitedly.

“Fine, but this is a covert operation, you can’t tell anyone.” Palomo said to Wash.

“Sounds good, uh lead the way Palomo.” Wash said standing up slowly.

After the small group left the conference room Palomo lead them toward the residential district of the base. They ducked in and out of alleyways to reach an old apartment building the Wash had never seen before. It was in the sector of the residential district that largely held housing supplies like extra mattresses and such. Palomo lead them to the end of the hallway of the first floor and opened the door to a dark room. 

Once the light came on Wash was in awe, much like he had been in the jungle with Sarge. In the small room several mattresses were leaned up against the wall in a fashion that constructed what could be defined as a couch. At the far end of the room sat a large flat screen TV with an old Wii sat beside it on the floor. Bitters pushed past Wash to turn on the systems as Jensen and Andersmith started to arrange the drinks and snacks beside the makeshift couch. 

“Do you like it sir?” Jensen asked after a minute of him standing there dumbfounded.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect this, it’s cool.” Wash said as Jensen motioned for him to sit down.

“You bet it is. How ready are you to be beat in Mario Kart sir?” Bitters said chuckling under his breath as he tossed a remote in Wash’s lap.

“Oh, you’re going down lieutenant.” Wash said smirking as Bitters organized a game.

If there was one past time that he had forgotten amount aboard the Mother of Invention, it was the vicious Mario Kart games that went on in Alpha team’s rec room. Most of the games would usually end with York and him hiding behind the couch as South, Tex, and Carolina went at it. Let’s just say there was always a supply order for new remotes every month. 

But now, holding one in his hands again, and with none of the terror trio present he could have fun. The first race started out on rainbow road, to which they all cursed at one time or another of their character falling into the black abyss. Jensen ended up winning that one much to the dismay of Bitters and Wash. It went like this for hours and between the game, Grif’s lifted stash of Oreos, and the soda, Wash didn’t mind losing track of time.

In the end Bitters ended up with the most wins and celebrated by walking around the room with the remote in one hand and a box of Oreos in the other. Wash laughed with the others and chalked his loss up to him being rusty, to which Bitters told him to stop making excuses. By the time the group wandered back outside it was well into the night. As they neared the blue team quarters Jensen grabbed his arm as the others went ahead.

“We have operation game time every Wednesday night; you’re welcome to come back if you have the time.” Jensen said before jogging to catch up with the others. 

Wash smiled to himself and made his way to Tucker’s room. When he turned the knob he found the room dimly lit by the lamp on Tucker’s desk. The sim trooper himself was passed out in bed with his tablet lying beside him. Wash gently put it to the side and changed into his night clothes before turning out the lamp. He carefully slipped into bed and pulled the covers over the pair as Tucker stirred slightly.

“You’re late.” Tucker mumbled sleepily as he wrapped an arm around Wash’s waist.

“Sorry, I was hanging out with the lieutenants.” Wash whispered as he pulled Tucker close and shut his eyes.

“Don’t care, you’re my pillow and you were late. Bad Wash.” Tucker mumbled as Wash’s chest vibrated with laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed day three, your comments and kudos are much appreciated from the last chapter.


	5. Day Four

Wash managed to drag himself out of bed the next relatively early compared to the last few days. Tucker was still sound asleep beside him, not having to be at the training room till past noon. Wash yawned as he pushed himself out of bed. Stretching his hands over his head, he let out a content breath of air. He flinched as Tucker let out a low whistle. 

“God I love when you stretch in the mornings, so hot.” Tucker muttered still cuddled up in bed.

Wash smirked and gave him a look that balanced suspicion and curiosity. In the end he ignored Tucker’s comment and went about dressing in a pair of charcoal cargo pants and a fitting gray shirt that still had a faded Mother of Invention logo covering the back. 

“Oh, so we’re going fifty shades of gray wardrobe today.” Tucker said chuckling under his breath as Wash shot him an annoyed look.

“Technically this is only two shades of gray.” Wash said leaning down over the bed inches away from Tucker’s face, dog tags shifting beneath his shirt.

“I don’t know your hair says three.” Tucker said smirking back.

“And guess who doesn’t get a kiss today, ass.” Wash sneered standing back up and grabbing his hoodie from the floor before slamming Tucker’s door behind him.

“Damn it.” Tucker huffed.

-

Wash decided to take a walk to the abandoned part of the city that the army had chosen for their home base. It was safe enough to justify not grabbing his armor considering the zone was still within the wall that surrounded the base. 

Most of the old building had already been looted during the war or swept by the army when they had moved here. Old store fronts greeted Wash as he stepped around the occasional pile of rubble or trash in the cracked streets. He took up his time counting windows that remained intact or watching birds dart from second story apartments to another.

Wash slowly felt himself remembering his childhood that he had spent on a mining colony. Most of the city streets he had walked then bared resemblance to these long abandoned ones. The only difference would have been the occasional store that tried to sell scrap, food, or second hand supplies. That and the clear sky that this city would have been darkened on a good day from the factories. 

If he closed his eyes he could almost see the smog filled skies of his youth, smell the concoction of aromas that came from a mining city. He wondered what it looked like now, after the covenant had ripped through it not long after he had left for the UNSC. Deep in thought, a small noise broke his trance.

His eyes shot open to look for the sound, half blaming it on his imagination. When he heard the sound again his legs almost ceased to work. Meow. 

Then he saw it, hidden in an alley that was dimly lit from the sun. The sunlight ghosted off its golden color as it pawed at a collection of trash. It couldn’t be more than a year old with how small it was and Wash’s mind crumpled. He slowly inched his way to the opening of the alley, trying to make himself look as friendly as possible. The tabby looked up at him with one striking blue eye and the other clouded over. Reaching out his hand the tabby hunched back and waited to see what Wash would do next. Curling his hand to let the tabby sniff it Wash waited with bated breath. 

The small tabby slowly reached it head forward to smell Wash’s hand. It then took all but a few seconds for the animal to glide against Wash’s shins, rubbing its head against his outstretched arm. The freelancer then took that opportunity to lift the tabby into his arms relishing the fact that the animal hadn’t tried to fight him. He quickly gave the cat a once over and determined that it was relatively clean and unharmed save the eye, and that it was actually a he.

“You wanna come home with me buddy?” Wash said as the tabby proceeded too bury itself in his arms.

Wash smiled as he felt his worries and the war melt away at the affection. He carried the tabby back the main area of the base and proceeded to seek in the back door of the med bay to look for Dr. Grey. He found her in her office flipping through reports. At the noise of his steps she had looked up, her eyes going wide at the sight in his arms.

“Wash, what are you doing?” Grey asked standing up and striding over to his side.

“I found him in an alley this morning, I was wondering if you or someone could check him out.” Wash said watching as the tabby lifted its head to look at Grey.

“I can look at him Wash, but you can’t be serious about keeping him.” Grey said taking the cat from Wash and walking across the hall to a patient room.

“Why not, I know we have pet food stocked in storage for other soldiers that have pets.” Wash explained looked at Grey in much of the same way a child would look at a mother.

“Fine, it would probably bring down your anxiety and stress anyway. And it looks like he is perfectly healthy save his eye.” Grey said handing him back to Wash.

“Thank you so much.” Wash said cradling the ball of fluff.

“So what are you going to name him?” Grey asked as she cleaned her tools.

“I don’t know.” Wash said holding the animal slightly away from his chest to look at him.

The tabby lifted his head and stared at Wash, tilting its head slightly before meowing. Then he proceeded to meow louder and swat at Wash with ones of its paws.

“Well good luck.” Grey said chuckling under her breath. 

-

After a long stop at supply for food and a litter box, Wash returned to his room and let the tabby make his rounds of the new environment while he set up the essentials. The tabby then bounded over onto Wash’s bed and proceeded to pounce on Wash who had chosen to lay down. 

Wash let out a laugh as the animal nudged him one time and then ran around the bed. Truthfully he had a name in mind, the cat reminded him so much of York’s energetic and at times annoying behavior. Not to mention how it would fit the animal’s appearance. He almost wondered if this cat was York reincarnated. He sighed and sat up prompting the cat to stop its play and look at him. 

“York, come here buddy.” Wash muttered as he patted his leg. 

The cat perked up immediately and bounded to Wash whose eyes went wide at the reaction. Because of course the cat would love that name. Wash smiled and wondered how York meeting Carolina in the future would go. 

“Well at least you can use any of his pickup lines.” Wash said as York meowed loudly and bounded over to his food dish.

“Or you can.” Wash huffed as a knock sounded on his door.

Cracking the door open he was met with Tucker standing in the hallway with his arms crossed. The sim troopers posture screamed annoyance as he stared suspiciously at Wash.

“Do you have someone in your room Wash?” Tucker asked.

“No, why would you ask?” Wash said chuckling lightly.

“Because I heard you talking to someone, and you only have your door open three inches.” Tucker stated lowering his hands to his hips.

“Oh, that. Well, I.” Wash stammered before Tucker cut him off by shoving his way in.

The next series of events would leave Wash hunched over laughing and Tucker shocked. As Tucker shoved himself into the room, York caught sight of him and immediately bounded over at full speed and jumped at Tucker’s chest. This in turn caused Tucker to panic and back petal until his ass hit the concrete floor. Wash then caught sight of a dumbfounded Tucker with York pawing at his jaw. 

“Wash, where did this cat come from.” Tucker asked continuing to stare ahead as the animal pawed at him to get attention.

“I went for a walk this morning and found him. His name is York.” Wash explained, closing the door and moving to sit next to his boyfriend.

“Your cat attacked me, for attention.” Tucker stated as he turned his head to stare at Wash.

“Well you do it to me, so I’m sure you’ll get along with him.” Wash said pressing a kiss to Tucker’s lips as York meowed loudly in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and great comments. Hope you enjoyed day four.


	6. Day Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Spring break and school sort of took up my last few weekends. But I now give you the Day 5, along with an epilogue.

Wash awoke to the strange sensation of something soft obscuring his ability to breathe. Usually this feeling was brought on when Tucker slept on top of him and his dreads were the culprit. That was one of the reasons that Wash had scoured the base for something comfortable to tie them back with at night. So the fact that it was happening again confused him. Opening his eyes, he was met with the image of an orange ball of fluff consuming his vision. Right, York.

“Ok, my face is not a pillow.” Wash grumbled picking up the sleepy tabby and depositing him to his left. 

This action earned a groan from Tucker who was now batting at the sudden feline that had been deposited on his face. York meowed lowly trying to make himself a comfortable bed on Tuckers neck and chest. Wash chuckled tiredly before pulling the tabby back to his chest. 

“That cats an asshole.” Tucker mumbled pushing the tabby off Wash’s chest so that he could pillow his head there instead. 

“It’s his namesake, now where were we.” Wash mumbled tugging Tucker closer before closing his eyes.

“Sleeping.” Tucker answered as the tabby started to bat his paw at Tuckers dreads. “Fuck.”

By the time that Wash got York and Tucker untangled the dawn sunlight was slipping through his window. Tucker muttered to himself as he pulled on his pants and a worn aqua shirt. York perched himself on top of Wash’s dresser, licking his paw and staring at Tucker. Wash chuckled under his breath as he dressed himself while watching the scene in front of him.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” Tucker sneered as the tabby meowed loudly at Tucker’s tone.

“The fact that your jealous of the cat.” Wash said giggling in delight as York jumped down from the dresser and planted himself right in front of Wash’s feet sending Tucker a feline grin.

“That cat is a menace to our relationship, look at what it’s doing.” Tucker hissed pointing at the tabby.

“He is a little protective, I’ll give you that. But Tucker, I can’t get rid of him.” Wash said face sulking as he bent down to pet the tabby.

Tucker sighed, Wash had the look of a kicked puppy. And with tears brimming, the freelancer sat down and held the feline. Tucker’s anger faded in an instant as he moved to sit beside Wash and wrap his arms around the freelancer’s shaking shoulders. York looked up at the pair with a tilted glance before squirming in Wash’s arms to prance toward his food bowl.

“You don’t have to get rid of him Wash. I could never do that to you. I just want to set some boundaries, because this cat will not be present during alone time. Do not ask me to place my dick in that kind of danger.” Tucker said laughing under his breath as Wash blushed.

“Ok, that sounds alright.” Wash said leaning into Tucker’s embrace.

A knock sounded on the door causing the pair to jump and York to trot up to the door in a defensive stance. The pair laughed at their ‘guard cat’ before Wash stood up to answer the door. When he opened the door he was met by Carolina, dressing in civilian clothes with a clipboard in her hand. Before either freelancer spoke York decided to climb his way up Carolina’s leg and perch himself on top of her clipboard before meowing excitedly.

“Wash, why?” Carolina said as she stared with wide eyes at the bold feline.

“I found him yesterday, his name is York for the eye and his color. But more for his attitude.” Wash said bracing for a bad reaction.

Instead what happened next made his jaw drop. Carolina picked the tabby up in her arms and let her clipboard clatter to the floor. York immediately snuggled himself into the freelancer’s arms and shut his eye in a contented solace. Carolina’s expression melted from surprise into one of happiness with tears brimming in her eyes. The tabby purred rubbing his head along her arm as she let out a quiet laugh. 

Wash picked his jaw up off the floor and reached out a hand to pet the feline only to have York bat at his hand and attempt to burrow himself deeper into Carolina’s hold. Tucker peaked over Wash’s shoulder and let out a laugh at the sight of Wash’s hand getting batted away time and time again. 

“I told you he was a menace.” Tucker said wrapping his arms around Wash’s waist and setting his head on the freelancer’s shoulder.

“Would you like to have him Carolina? He seems to really like you.” Wash asked, smiling warmly at the scene in front of him.

“I couldn’t Wash. He’s yours.” Carolina said quickly as her eyes snapped to Wash’s content expression.

“But he makes you so happy. And besides, he has already attacked Tucker both physically and psychologically a handful of times in the past day.” Wash said.

“You’re sure?” Carolina asked again as York laid his head on her arm to look at Wash.

“Positive, I’ll help you carry the stuff to your room.” Wash said as he and Tucker gathered the cat supplies and walked to Carolina’s room.

“Thank you Wash.” Carolina said as they walked down the hallway.

-

Wash and Tucker had ended up on the roof of the housing complex that evening. Tucker was leaning against the stairwell enclosure with Wash in front of him under a blanket. They stared at the tints of reds and purples as the sun set over the base. Tucker carded his hands over Wash’s shoulders causing the freelancer to relax even more into their embrace. The low groans from Wash caused Tucker to let out a laugh and place a kiss on top of his partner’s head.

“Did you enjoy your week off, or did you suffer the whole time?” Tucker asked as Wash tilted his head back to look at Tucker.

“It was nice, I learned a lot of people know how to spend their free time better than I could have ever imagined in a war. I might actually use my free time for something other than work now.” Wash mumbled as he pillowed his head against Tucker’s chest.

“Stop the presses, hell just froze over. Agent Washington is going to actively use his free time as free time.” Tucker announced as Wash smacked him in the leg.

“I’ll get the cat asshole.” Wash said smirking as Tucker squinted his eyes.


	7. Epilogue

Wash smiled to himself as he finished typing. It was complete. Going back to work had been an enjoyable experience as he learned to take some breaks through the day and use some of his free time to go fishing with the reds or hang out with the lieutenants. But the best thing about coming back after a week off was a special plan he arranged with the generals. Wash quickly printed off the document and jogged across the hall to the conference room.

Carolina, Doyle, and Kimball sat at one edge of the long table. They all looked up and offered greeting as Wash sat down so the meeting could start. Wash shared a knowing smirk with each of the generals as Carolina stared at the trio in suspicion.

“Now Carolina since Wash had such success with his week off from work, especially in reducing his stress and learning to take it easier during the work week. Doyle and I have taken Wash’s advice to give you the same opportunity.” Kimball said as Carolina stared.

“What are you saying?” Carolina asked.

“What Miss Kimball is saying is that you have earned this coming week off. Or more specifically are being ordered like Washington was to take it off.” Doyle explained as Carolina send a venomous gaze toward Wash.

“You might want to consult this. And just know that I’ll have informants, so don’t think you can sneak back to your office or the training room.” Wash said smirking as he slid the sheet of paper toward Carolina.

Carolina snatched the paper and turned it over. Her glare fell to a look of confusion as she read the paper.

TUCKER AND WASH’S GUIDE TO A PERFECT WEEK OFF, WITH RULES!  
1\. No armor is allowed on days’ off  
2\. You are not allowed to be productive  
3\. Start with a nap  
4\. You’re not allowed pout when people are trying to help you have a nice day off  
5\. Fish with the reds   
6\. Play Mario Karts with the lieutenants  
7\. Take a walk  
8\. Enjoy the company of the cat

Love Wash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking though this whole story. I'm amazed at the response this story got and am already planning a small offshoot of it. Again thank you for all the comments and kudos and all the people that came back for another chapter.
> 
> And I am not liable for damages that may occur if you follow Tucker and Wash's day off plan. :)


End file.
